


until the fading stars fall at your feet

by passingafternoon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Children, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Future Fic, Gen, Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Trips to the beach, but i promise the rest of it isn't, in which jaime and brienne grow old like characters from the love song of j. alfred prufrock, the first part of this story is written from the perspective of a toddler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:46:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29851383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/passingafternoon/pseuds/passingafternoon
Summary: Jaime, at the beginning and the end.(Or: Two trips to the beach, seventy years apart.)
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 20
Kudos: 106





	until the fading stars fall at your feet

1.

When he is three years old, Jaime’s favorite things in the whole wide world are his sister, his mother, pictures of lions, and also running, jumping, and fighting. That’s why he’s so excited to be four soon. Cersei says that four-year-olds get to pick out their own clothes, and touch the books on the high-up shelves, and tell Eric and Marta and the other servants what to do. 

What’s best of all, Jaime knows, is that four-year-olds get to hold their own swords—not just sticks, but real wooden swords, with pommels and pointy ends and everything. Jaime wants a wooden sword with a lion on it for his nameday. He heard the cook’s son say that wooden swords were for babies, but he didn’t cry, because he _isn’t_ a baby, and his sword won’t be for babies either. Cersei says four-year-olds aren’t babies, and Cersei knows everything. 

The very best day of Jaime’s life so far was the day that the nanny got sick. The cook got sick, too, and the maid, and a lot of the servants, so the dark-haired servant’s daughter was in charge of him and Cersei. Cersei said no one is in charge of Lannisters but really the servant’s daughter was, which Jaime thought was actually okay, because she took them to the ocean and showed them about something called a cove.

After they got to the cove, two more servants showed up, and one of them had a big smile, and the one with the big smile looked at Cersei who was frowning and said _little girl you should learn to smile too_ and then threw her into the ocean. Jaime thought she would be mad, but instead she started laughing, so Jaime knew it would be okay if he laughed, too. Then they let him run right into the water, by himself, so it was the best day of Jaime’s life, ever. 

The servants said they could stay at the beach the whole day, and the servant with the funny mark on his face brought out a whole basket of cheese and bread and fruit. Cersei said _we aren’t supposed to eat when we’re dirty_ and the funny servant said _oh yeah_ and _watch me_ , and together they ate up the whole basket, even though they weren’t wearing proper clothes or sitting at a table.

Then Jaime got to run into the water again, and he and Cersei splashed each other, and he held her hand very carefully when the waves got big so she wouldn’t drown like the servant’s friend said would happen to almost-four-year-olds who don’t listen to the rules. 

The servants threw him up in the air and he splashed and splashed, and later, he asked the servant with the longest hair about why the water stopped at the beach, and why it didn’t come all the way up to the castle to sweep everybody away. The servant said _even the ocean has to listen to Lord Lannister_. And Cersei nodded and said _the whole world listens to father_ , so Jaime knew the servant was right. 

One day, Jaime realized, _he_ would be a grown-up, and then _he_ would be Lord Lannister, in charge of making the ocean stay away from the people in the castle. He tried to tell the ocean to back away from his legs when he thought no one was looking, and he used his best manners. But it didn’t work. The ocean stayed right where it was.

In a few days, when his nanny feels better, Jaime will ask her if they can go back to the cove again. She’ll say _we’ll see_ , but Jaime won’t believe her. He isn’t sure if he’ll be allowed to go to the beach by himself when he turns four. But when Jaime’s all grown up, he _will_ get to decide, and he and Cersei will be able to play at the beach every day, with the servants and the fruit basket and everything. Jaime can’t imagine anything he’d like better than that.

\------------------------------------

2.

At the age of seventy-three, Jaime tries not to spend too much time thinking about getting older. His body, however, has other ideas. Jaime’s bones creak every morning, the day’s first reminder—and his back hurts in the afternoon, just in case he’s forgotten. 

He tires more easily; his strength is nothing like it was. His reflexes are slower. His beard has long since lost its last traces of gold. 

It’s not that Jaime _minds_ aging, exactly—he understood that his strength wouldn’t last forever, and at least this time he had advance warning, and time to prepare. Compared to the sudden shock of losing his hand, all those years ago, this is not such a loss—not such a betrayal. 

A Lannister always pays his debts, and Jaime has accepted the cost of getting older. It’s just...he wants to stick around a little bit longer, if he can. 

At seventy-three, Jaime’s favorite thing in the world is waking up in a warm bed, next to his wife, who’s lightly snoring. Most nights, she tends to drift to the far side of the mattress—but sometimes, she finds her way back to him, and flings her arm around his waist come morning. The weight of her arm as she holds him—the feeling of her breath, steady and even on the back of his neck—these are gifts beyond imagining.

Jaime loves the woman beside him. He loves his children, now grown themselves. He loves his grandchildren, loves their easy giggles, and he loves how determined they are to climb into his lap, to ask him again about bears and knights and dragons. 

To the youngest ones, running with abandon through Evenfall Hall, Jaime is a storyteller—a one-handed adventurer with little regard for matters like bedtime. He helps them sneak cookies from the kitchen. He’s not afraid of storms, or anything else. He doesn’t mind if they get a little bit dirty during playtime, and he _never_ breaks his promises. 

(What they’re too young to realize is that Jaime never promises more than what he’s sure he can provide.)

Jaime loves the sunshine on his face—his body has never forgotten the year he spent in a dungeon, nor the longest winter in living memory, nor the weeks-long battle in which he did not believe he would live to see the sun’s eventual return. He loves the feel of the morning breeze through the bay window. Later today, he’ll take his grandson—Alyn, who has only just turned three—down to the beach. There’s a particular cove Brienne showed Jaime years ago, when they first arrived on Tarth. It’s Alyn’s favorite place to go, and Jaime never objects.

Brienne, he thinks, might be stuck in meetings through the morning. Although her oldest daughter has begun to take on the responsibilities of the Evenstar, Brienne still does the lion’s share of the work. But if she can spare the time, Jaime will convince her to join them on their journey. 

Alyn loves his grandmother: She can swim all the way out to the horizon, and she has a knack for finding the most interesting-looking seashells. Alyn also loves that his grandmother is very tall, and that her shoulders are perfect for sitting on. He tells Jaime—whose back is too sore for that kind of thing—that he can see far away from atop Brienne’s shoulders, all the way to King’s Landing, even. Jaime always makes sure to look very impressed. 

Jaime doesn’t spend much time lost in nostalgia—his life is perfect, now, and anyway, his memory is full of holes. He spent so many years going away inside, and it took time to learn how to come back. 

On bad days, Brienne holds his face in her gentle palms. She helps him carry the weight of his regrets. They’ve both experienced unspeakable losses. There is no need for explanation; they’ve had world enough, and time, to share their most deeply-buried secrets. 

The feel of her body, surrounding his, is more than enough. More than he knew to want, until the first time she held him. 

More than he thought he could ever deserve.

The tides go in and out. Ravens arrive from Winterfell, from King’s Landing, from Casterly Rock, and then take flight again. Jaime mourns his sister, but not often. He mourns his mother, too, although his memories of her have long since faded—when he thinks of motherhood, he thinks of Brienne, her exhaustion, her patience, the children they raised together. 

Jaime loves watching his grandchildren running and jumping along the beach, and he still loves fighting, even though he rarely spars: His body is older, but his mind is sharp, and he gives feedback to the students down at the armory every Friday afternoon. He isn’t especially fond of pictures of lions. Among his grandchildren, only a few are eager to play with wooden swords.

Later today, Jaime will take Alyn to the beach. When Alyn asks, Jaime will explain that no one controls the tides—not even the Evenstar. They’ll build a sand castle together, and before they go, they’ll watch it crumble. When nobody’s looking, Jaime will whisper his thanks to the ocean. Brienne’s going to outlive him, a fact for which he is deeply grateful. It will be there, to watch over her, after he’s gone. 

He has nothing left to ask for. 

He’s grateful all the same.

**Author's Note:**

> is this baby's first fanfiction? yes. it is. please do not perceive me in any capacity thanks


End file.
